


Faith, Trust, and Angel Dust

by lilliebythesea



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan (1953), Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, Return to Never Land (2002)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), College AU, College party au, F/M, Love/Hate Relationship, Modern AU, POV Third Person, Slice of Life, University AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilliebythesea/pseuds/lilliebythesea
Summary: "Do you think there's a place where we can forget all of this?" she asked."Oh, I'm sure of it," he answered. "It's up there.""That's just a ceiling.""Oh, Jane," he said, "you're not using your imagination."Uptight freshman Jane and class clown Peter meet at a college house party. Peter is known among his classmates for using drugs, but he seems to be more perceptive than he lets on.[A tongue-in-cheek short story with three parts. Rated T for drug use. Complete.]





	1. Part One

Jane Darling grimaced as some boy — _because he was too foolish to be called a man_ – bumped into her shoulder. Jane’s drink sloshed in the plastic cup. The boy, a blockhead from her English class, carelessly walked away with some girl on his arm.

“Hey—” Jane spat, but the word gave up before it left her mouth, and she sighed.

The university freshman pressed herself further against the brick wall and lifted the plastic to her lips. No one really liked beer, she thought. Everyone just tricked themselves into liking the flat taste as it slithered down their throat.

On that thought, no one ever really liked college parties, Jane mused. It was all just a giant pretend. What was appealing about loud music overcrowding your thoughts? What was appealing about the sweating bodies of strangers—?

“Jane!”

She looked up. One of her friends — or, rather, fresh acquaintance — waved her over, bracelets jangling in the air. Jane gestured to her drink. Her friend shook her head and persisted. Jane sighed and crossed the room, ducking around her peers.

“You know I don’t want to be here,” Jane grumbled over the obnoxious music. She idly sipped the beer and held it in her mouth. The little bit of flavor wavered.

She couldn't even tell you which fraternity house this was. Not because of alcohol, but rather because she did not care. 

Jane's friend, Lily, tossed her hair. “You gotta loosen up, Janie.” She gestured to two other girls, both of which clearly already had a few drinks. “This is Margaret—”

“Maggie,” Margaret corrected, wiping her mouth.

“—and Sarah,” Lily finished.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Jane said, nodding, knowing that she would forget their names before the night ended. She doubted they remembered her name.

“Jane.” Lily looked at her, more admonishing than any parent figure. _You know better than this._

“I’m sorry,” Jane amended, guilt creeping into her head. “It’s my mother, you know.” Jane sipped her beer so she wouldn’t have to elaborate.

The girls nodded and murmured in agreement. Regardless of age, everyone understood parents. The classic burden or scapegoat, depending on the moment.

“Oh, look,” Maggie said, gesturing with her own plastic cup. She raised her eyebrows. “Class clown is here.”

Unable to deny the curiosity, Jane glanced over her shoulder at a group of fraternity boys in the corner.

“Ugh, him,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. She remembered him from her algebra class. He was an upperclassman. “How high do you think he is right now?”

“Peter isn’t that bad.” Lily smiled and played with one of her long dark braids. “I’ve known him since, like, middle school. He’s cute when he wants to be.”

The redhead – Peter – lounged on a bar stool like some type of king. Tossing his head back in a loud laugh, he almost fell off the stool towards the grimy tile floor. He gripped the bistro table and laughed harder. A gathered crowd of younger boys sat at his feet like worshippers.

“That slacker?” Sarah scoffed, her nose crinkling. “Cute in a ‘dumb puppy’ kind of way.”

“He’s harmless, Jane, Sarah,” Lily insisted. She laughed all the same as she let her braid drop against her chest.

The four girls watched the boy tell a story. His wide arms swooped in an attempt to encompass the air and all that it contained. Even from this distance, Jane noticed the clarity of his eyes and motions. If he _was_ high, he hid it better than others that she knew.

“You know,” Sarah said, conspiring in a whisper, “I heard he also deals drugs on the side.”

“I heard that too,” Maggie nodded. “He got in a gang fight once. He and the Lost Boys. They won--”

Jane scoffed. “Look how skinny he is. I doubt he won.”

Maggie shrugged defensively. “That’s just what I’ve heard.”

“You guys stop,” Lily said, cutting in. “Follow me if you’re so interested.” She finished the last of her drink and left it on a table. “Peter!” she called, breaking through the crowd of people that had gathered.

Interrupting his story, the boy looked up at the sound of his name. “Tiger Lily!”

She laughed, obviously flattered. “How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that childish nickname?”

He grinned. His teeth glinted in the light. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.” He looked over her shoulder. “And who are these girls?” His gaze lingered on Jane with something like familiarity. She shifted uncomfortably.

“They’re my friends. Maggie, Sarah, and the grumpy one is Jane.”

Jane raised her chin. She didn’t have anything to prove to this boy that she detested immediately. He reminded her of her brother, Danny: too honest and careless with his actions; no filter; worse of all, charm was his weapon of choice.

Peter grinned. “Well, if any of you want a good time, hit me up—”

“Peter,” Lily said. She punched his shoulder. “They’re my friends.”

“Aw, Tiger Lily, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin.

Jane scoffed inwardly. Lily nursed a childhood crush. Not that she was surprised. Love was not selective with its victims—it didn't care if Lily was valedictorian of her high school graduating class, or if she already had an off-again, on-again boyfriend.

Her phone buzzed in her pants pocket. She slipped it out, gripping it in her unsteady hand, as Sarah and Maggie made their introductions. A text from Danny. Jane squinted.

_Danny: Hey Jane mom told me to tell you to be careful tonight. she said she's sorry about the fight._

"You already know the Lost Boys." Peter gestured to the younger boys sitting at his feet. The boys turned their faces upwards and looked impossibly young. Must be fresh pledge brothers, Jane mused.

"Did you guys really beat up the Pirates gang?" Maggie asked. Sarah elbowed her pointedly.

"Oh," Peter leaned in from his stool, hands gripping the edges. He grinned. "They didn't know what hit them."

Maggie tittered, obviously and deliciously scandalized.

 _The damage is already done,_ Jane answered, typing with one hand; the cup of lukewarm beer stayed in the other. Thank God for autocorrect. _I'm old enough to be treated like an adult._

"You guys have fun," Lily smirked as she walked away. "I have other people to see."

Jane found herself against another wall as she looked at her phone. That old flavor of injustice burned her tongue. Oh, how she hated to be treated like a child. With their father abroad, doing who knows what, with some special military business, Jane was not blind. She scoured the news in the morning, engaging with the endless scroll, looking for a morsel of information about her father and his whereabouts.

The rational part of her head knew that her mother meant well. She only wanted to protect her daughter. But Jane was eighteen and a university student to major in journalism. Jane had a good head on her shoulders. She detested condescension. 

Maggie and Sarah, despite their pretensions of scorning the redheaded slacker, were each on his arm, entranced by whatever tale he was spinning. Miming the action of answering a call, Jane ducked away from the crowd. She navigated the hallways, slipping past strangers, alcohol and weed clogging her nostrils, before breaking free past the front door.

She inhaled a fresh gulp of air.

She poured the rest of the beer into a nearby bush. She dropped the empty cup in a trash can.

"That's a waste!" a drunk boy yelled from the porch.

Jane flipped him off.

She made it to the sidewalk before she remembered that Lily had been her ride. Such a dumb decision. 

She texted Lily: _Where are you?_

 _Busy_ Lily answered with a winking emoji. _Leave by midnight I promise._

Jane stomped her foot and cursed her luck. She had an assignment due tomorrow that she, of course, had barely started. Classic freshman mistake.

"Woah, there," a voice said from behind her. "Don't throw a tantrum on our lawn."

Jane turned. "Oh," she said. "It's you."

Peter walked up to her with his hands in his pockets. He no longer resembled the boy from inside, all bravado, but now he looked like an abashed teenage boy. The kind of boy you would take home to introduce to your father. _I'll have her home before midnight, sir. I promise._

"Lily didn't tell me that you bite," he said, chuckling. "You stranded?"

Jane turned away from him, suddenly embarrassed. Her cheeks flared. "Lily also probably didn't tell you that she's my ride."

"Ouch," he said. He offered a hand. "C'mon, I can at least entertain you in the meantime."

Jane's cheeks reddened. "I'm not hooking up with you, Peter."

Peter's eyes widened and lowered his hand. "I didn't mean to make it sound—"

"'Make it sound like that'?" Jane mocked. 

"Damn, Jane," Peter said. He removed a blunt and a lighter from his pocket. He lifted the blunt to his lips. Jane noticed the callousness of his fingers and the scars of past burns.

Jane sighed. "Sorry. It's just — all of this is embarrassing." She threw her arm out into the street. "I have an assignment tonight, and—"

"You a freshman?" he interrupted as he exhaled the smoke. Jane's nose crinkled.

"So what if I am?"

He gestured towards her with the lighter. He grinned. "You looked like a scared cat in there. Ready to run off at any moment."

Jane shifted her feet, and she decided to go with the truth. "It's not my scene."

Peter nodded. "And that's why I want to show you something different from all of this. Can't have you leaving with a bad impression." He held out a hand again, blunt tipping from his mouth. "So, you trust me, Jane?"


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for the kind words! I apologize for the late update, but the words refused to come out right. Enjoy! (There will probably be one or two more parts after this.)

"Wassup, Peter!"  


"Peter Pan! What's up, my dude?"

"Hey, man! Good to see ya,” Peter answered, waving a hand in acknowledgement.

Jane observed the boy as he wove his way through the crowd. He had a way about himself to make anyone else feel special, like the only person in the room. It was something about his smile, she decided. Sweet, but potentially obnoxious with its charisma.

She shook her head. She could fall under his toxic spell just as easily as anyone else.

"Jane?"

She almost walked into him – he had stopped in front of an entryway hidden in a stairwell. He looked at her, eyebrows raised, questioning.

"You still there?" he asked, miming knocking on her forehead. Standing this close to him, she smelled the weed on his breath.

"I'm here," she said, nose crinkling. The odor reeked. "What were you going to show me?" She crossed her arms.

"Oh, it'll be worth it–!" he grinned. He bowed and waved his arm in an extravagant manner. The blunt dangled in his fingers. "After you, madam."

Jane rolled her eyes. How many other susceptible girls and women blindly followed strangers into darkened rooms, just like this? "You think I'm that dumb, Peter?"

He blinked. His arm was frozen in that cliché welcoming gesture. "What do you mean?"

"I told you--"

Clarity crossed his features. His round face sobered. "And I told you that hooking up with you is not my intention. Believe me, Jane," he scoffed, straightening from the bow, indignant, "you would know if I was flirtin’ with you."

Jane eyed him.

An invisible line stood between the two students. Jane hesitated. Something about Peter – she knew that he was not goading her as if she was another one of his frat brothers. As easily as she followed him to this mysterious doorway, she could just as easily slip away into the party as another attendee. He would never mention the night, and what did or did not happen, again.

"You promise it'll be worth it?" she finally asked him. Her foot wavered above that cursed invisible line.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Peter smiled. He mimed crossing his chest and laughed.

Despite the best of her intentions, Jane smiled back, close-lipped, and slid past Peter into the room.

"Oh, wow," she breathed, walking into the center of the room, all fears of abduction and date-rape momentarily forgotten.

Glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the white plaster ceiling. Movie posters – vintage classics and fresh blockbusters alike – hung on the stained walls. Mismatched chairs and a small loveseat sat in a haphazard U shape on the carpeted floor. A curtain hung above a window, therefore successfully blocking any outside light.

Most impressive of all, however, was the old beige projector that sat towards the back of the room. Reminiscent of primary school classes, the projector stood on a four-wheeled black cart.

Peter leaned against the doorframe. With a small drug store lighter, he lit the blunt, lifted it to his lips, and inhaled. He exhaled. "Yep. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Pretty archaic," she jabbed. She found herself mildly impressed, nonetheless.

Peter shook his head. "There’s no pleasing you, huh?" Shutting the door behind him, he sauntered into the room and plopped himself down on the loveseat. He crossed his legs – sat his left ankle on his right knee. It would have looked effeminate on anyone else. "You do drugs, Jane?"

Jane looked at him. She did not dare sit down – not yet, if not ever. "Not really, no."

"Because you don't want to, or because you never had the opportunity?"

"Both?" she said, yearning to be sure of her decision, but she heard the lilt in her own voice. The question. The open invitation to change her mind. "Not beyond weed, anyway," she quickly added to make herself sound more assured.

Peter offered the blunt without a word.

Jane looked at the foreign item, and the extended hand that offered it. Peter's fingernails were close cut and even: not the nails of an infamous brawler. She waved her own hand, as if to say, no, I have had enough. "I'm okay. I don't do it all the time.”

Peter smirked. "So you haven't smoked before."

Jane rolled her eyes. "So you found me out. Is that such a crime? You drug pusher?"

The boy laughed and withdrew his hand. "You know, you really are like a scared cat. You hiss when cornered." He pocketed the blunt in the breast pocket of his green button-down shirt. "What I wanted to show you will change your world. Have you done anything like acid before?"

"You seriously talk so casually about this? About doing drugs?" Jane looked to the doorway, as if expecting a policeman to be standing there, wagging his finger in the two students' direction. As if expecting her mother to suddenly materialize with Danny in tow.

Peter's head twitched the slightest amount, catching himself turning in the direction of the doorway as well. He shrugged. "It's not like it's a secret. Everyone already thinks I'm some Walter White or some shit."

Jane stepped forwards. Something in the self-deprecation humanized the boy for the briefest of moments. "As if you aren't?"

"Hell, Jane," he said, leaning back in the loveseat, arms crossed behind his head. "You really think I would be here if I was?"

"Bad people get into good schools all the time."

Peter's round face fully sobered. "I'm not a bad person, Jane. Just because I know how to have a good time doesn't mean I also belong in jail."

Jane lowered her gaze and pretended to be fascinated with her nails. In her mind’s eye, she saw the tall brick houses of her neighborhood, with the climbing ivy, and the clean sidewalks. The paved roads without potholes, and the street corners without beggars. The good schools with the orderly uniforms. Her privilege held its mirror to her face.

She needed to clean the chipped polish from her nails.

"You're right," she finally said. "I'm...sorry."

"What?" Peter gasped, clutching his heart, the heaviness of the moment forgotten, if not forgiven. "The stone-hearted Jane...She apologizes to me?"

Jane smiled. "Oh, stop." She sat down next to him in the loveseat before she lost her nerve. Pleasantly surprised, Peter inched to the side, allowing her more space. He moved his arm to the top of the sofa. Jane found herself overtly aware of his movements.

The smell of his sweat blended with the odor of weed and the scent of his cologne. Almost unpleasant in its overt masculinity, and almost obscene in its proximity.

"So," he said, "would you be interested in acid?"

"If I had all night," Jane answered, "I would not have enough time to explain why that is a bad idea."

"Well," he retorted, "I have plenty of good reasons why."

"Name one." Jane inched slightly away from his body, pressing herself into the side of the furniture.

"Your paper," he said. "It is just before midterms. Even if you make a bad grade, you will have plenty of time to pull it up."

"Anything lower than a 'B' isn't acceptable," Jane countered.

Peter scoffed. "You'll be thinking differently by the time you graduate. I used to be an A-student, myself, but then I realized: what for?” He waved his hand, as if to dismiss her fears. “What’s another reason?”

Jane immediately answered: “I just met you.”

“Jane,” Peter said, tone level, “besides the fact that you are Lily’s friend, and I would never hurt you, you have had the option to leave this conversation the entire time. Why are you still here?”

Jane opened her mouth to respond. Her will wavered.

Why was she still here?

She remembered Danny’s friends dismissing her as "too boring" and "Plain Jane" when they thought she could not hear. She remembered Danny not defending her. She remembered her mother bragging that she "never had to worry about Jane. She was a good girl." Jane remembered this as a compliment, but now it cast a different light.

“Does it hurt?”

Peter shook his head. He angled his body towards her, as if sensing the possibilities. “Not at all. And I’ll be right here.”

“Does it last long?”

He shrugged. “It depends, but it’s a small dosage.”

Once, a boy in Jane’s class argued that girls were weaker than boys. He argued that Jane could not climb a tree faster than him. Jane bet him that she could. She bet that she could run faster than him, too.

Little Jane fell from the tree. She twisted her ankle in the race. But she had dared.

Where had that adventurous girl gone?

“Okay,” Jane nodded. “I’ll do it.”

She held out her hand.


	3. Part Three

The acid was similar in shape to a small slip of paper, as if discarded from a school assignment, forgotten and tossed into the trash.

“Open your mouth,” Peter said, not perversely but clinically, like a doctor prescribing medicine. “It needs to be right beneath your tongue for you to feel the full affects.”

Her short-lived bravado dissipating, Jane hesitated. She watched the drug between Peter's forefinger and thumb.

“It’s a small enough dosage that it shouldn’t affect you too much, though.”

Jane remained silent, feeling as if she stood on a precipice, and had a long way down to fall.

Peter leaned forwards. His reddish hair roguishly fell into his eyes. “You can say no, Jane.”

Jane shook her head. “No, I said I would. I want to.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. He held the thin strip of acid between his thumb and index finger. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Jane opened her mouth.

* * *

 

Despite the effects of the acid, Jane was careful to maintain a certain distance away from Peter.

Yet, this did not stop her from watching him in her peripheral vision. Arms crossed behind his head, he stared at the white plaster ceiling, his mouth slightly parted. His eyes traced an ambiguous pattern in the air, invisible to Jane, but clear to him.

Despite laying this close to him, she did not see any sign of facial hair – as fresh-faced as a baby – and this endeared him to her.

"Do you think there's a place where we can forget all of this?" she asked. She thought about Danny, and her hovering mother, and her vanishing father. The Darling family felt like a million miles away, and her heart weighed heavy in her chest.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Peter answered, turning his head to meet her gaze. "It's up there." His pupils dilated and absorbed the dark brown of his irises.

His eyes looked like empty holes that a –  _stupid, stupid_  – girl could fall into, especially if she were not careful.

"That's just a ceiling."

"Oh, Jane," he said, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a smile, "you're not using your imagination."

Jane looked up at the ceiling again. She wondered if the glow-in-the-dark stars held any meaning beyond mere aesthetics. Her stomach felt simultaneously heavy and light in her body, as if she were being lifted into the air by an invisible force.

The moment – if it were a moment, which Jane doubted – was interrupted by the buzzing of a phone. Jane's hand instinctively flashed towards the phone in her pocket. Peter did not flinch.

"Hello?" Jane answered. She cleared her throat.

"Jane?  _Where_  are you?" Lily's voice traveled much too loudly. Jane held the phone away from her ear. "It's past 1 o'clock."

"I'm with–" Jane paused. Lily's crush – was it a fair-weathered thing? Only to appear in a burst of drunken behavior, and flee by morning? Or, Jane considered, it could be something more solid, more tangible, that would hang over their budding friendship. "Nevermind. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I've been ready for the past half hour! I've tried to find you," Lily answered, benevolently ignoring Jane’s omission, but words still scathing. "Wherever you are, come meet me out front, yeah?"

"Wait-" Jane's words were cut off by the  _click_  of the phone. She withdrew the phone from her ear. "She  _hung up_  on me."

Peter's head lolled towards her. "Give me a bit, and I can drive you-"

Jane shook her head, insistent, but slow. The room spun ever so slightly. "You are in no state to drive."

Sudden regret flooded her insides, and she ached to take a hot shower, to wash away the night and the risk-taking behavior. She leaned forwards and, in an attempt to steady herself, placed her hands on her knees. She stood, slowly.

"It was Lily,” she said, words unspooling from her mouth. “I have to go."

Peter followed her. "Let me walk you out, at least." He turned off the overhead light and closed the door behind them.

The sounds of the party met Jane's ears as if she had surfaced from underwater. Thudding beats that drummed within her body.

"Jane?" Peter repeated her name. He reached to grab for her shoulder, but his hand paused in midair, hovering above the cloth of her blouse. "Can I...kiss you?"

Momentarily sidewinded, as if hit, Jane smirked. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. "I thought you weren't flirting with me." She wanted to say no, to shut him down, but she heard the open invitation in the air, much as when she answered whether or not she did drugs.

He could change her mind, perhaps. If he really tried.

"Well," he exhaled, "what are my odds? I’m a bettin’ man.”

Jane turned. She had to remind herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. As if she were drunk. As if she were high from doing drugs with a frat boy. "What about Lily?"

Peter followed. "Oh," he said off-handedly, "she's just Lily." As if he were used to the attention, which seemed likely.

"She likes you."

"And?"

Jane half-turned. "And what?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't owe her anything just because she likes me."

Jane paused. They had almost reached the front door of the fraternity house. The party floor was now emptier; the party had watered down. In the dim light, the room was depressing, and no longer seemed full of unlimited possibilities. 

The carelessness with which Peter had answered her completely crashed the illusion. Her heart hammered, but for a different reason. " _Really_ , Peter?"

Peter shrugged. "What can I say? The fact that you don't care about shit-"

"I do care," Jane insisted, finally turning around. She left out the fact that she always cared _too much._ "Just not about _this_."

"And that's what I like!" he retorted. “I’ve liked it since you walked into that algebra class and knew the answer before anyone else.”

The truth in that statement commanded Jane’s limbs to stop from trying to pull away. Her body –  her biology, she thought – craved the exact opposite.

Peter cupped her chin and lifted her face upwards. The callouses on his hand rubbed upwards against her skin, like bristles on a cat’s tongue, but not unpleasantly.

He leaned his head down.

A whisper of a kiss against her lips. The slightest bit of pressure, questioning:  _is this okay?_  He lingered above her mouth, breath hot against her skin, and then withdrew. He smiled.

Whereas his previous smiles of the night were self-assured, this time, it was a soft quirk of his mouth. His thumb rubbed circles against her skin.

"That wasn't too terrible, huh?" he said, smile widening.

Jane exhaled a long breath she did not realize that she had held. 

She stepped forwards, intentionally pressing her small breasts against his chest, and stood on her toes. Peter’s mouth opened expectantly, eyes half-lidded with both drugs and desire, but Jane instead kissed the side of his cheek.

Unlike the roughened skin of his palm, his cheek was smooth to the touch, unmarred by acne scars or facial hair. Grinning, biting her lower lip, she quickly stepped backwards, into the street, towards the warm car where Lily waited, most likely impatiently tapping the steering wheel.

"Oh," he said, eyes widening in good humor, "so she is a  _tease_."

Jane only smiled. Lily honked the horn impatiently. "See you in class, Peter."

Standing on the sidewalk, he waved a hand as Jane walked away. "Goodnight, Lady Jane." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for keeping with me and reading this little story! I may write more of this universe in the future. :) Be well!


End file.
